


Ring

by tanarill



Series: Haunted Past [4]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Cooking, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Despair, Erections, Family Feels, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Graphic Description, Inappropriate Erections, Kissing, M/M, Monsters, Non-Consensual Kissing, Prostate Massage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sleeping Together, Superpowers, TV News, Tasers, Threats of Violence, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-22
Updated: 2007-09-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 14:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanarill/pseuds/tanarill
Summary: Dan Phantom was willing to spare Amity Park, in exchange for a hostage.





	Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the warnings. This isn't a _nice_ fic.

Danny woke slowly. He was first aware of a cool, wet cloth on his forehead, and then, when he opened his eyes, of the soft, diffuse light of the lampshade. His head hurt. "Ow . . . "

"So sorry," said Dan, from somewhere above him, not sounding sorry in the least. "I couldn't have you conscious while I moved you here, and the easiest way to knock you out was . . . to knock you out. It should stop hurting in a few hours. I advise staying still until then."

" . . . right. And where is here?"

"Danny," replied Dan. "Telling you would defeat the purpose of keeping it a secret. Think of it as home, instead. It will be much easier on you."

"And you're planning on keeping me a prisoner here," said Danny, as he remembered more.

"Mmm, _prisoner_ is such an ugly word. How about guest?"

"Because a guest can go home."

"This _is_ home."

There was quiet for a moment after that, and then Danny closed his eyes.

" . . . I'll let you rest," said Dan, shifting on the bed as he reached over to turn off the light, and then getting up to leave the room, closing the door behind him.

***

When Danny woke up the second time, it happened all at once, between one breath and the next. He didn't particularly feel like moving, only his stomach was loudly complaining that he'd missed lunch and now seemed to have missed dinner too. Besides, he'd have to do this sooner or later. He sighed and got up, following the light coming in under the door.

The hallway was almost spartan in its blandness. Beige carpeting, cream walls, simple orbs in the ceiling casting a subdued golden glow. No school projects from kindergarten on the walls; no weird access panels for whatever his parents had last done to FentonWorks. There were doors, which led to things like bathrooms and guest bedrooms, one of which was being used as an office instead, and stairs leading down.

The door at the end of the hall opened out onto a living room out of a home designer's dream, complete with that unlived-in look that could only be attained from never having been lived in. It occurred to Danny to wonder how long exactly Dan had been planning this. Long enough, at any rate, to have set up that trap. Dan was watching TV, which was normal. He was watching the Amity Park news talk about the fact that Daniel Fenton was missing, which was not.

"So, what, you get some weird kick out of watching the news report that I'm missing?" asked Danny.

The television clicked off.

"No. I was watching the news. You are just what's on." Dan's face was blank, unreadable. Danny met the stare for a few moments, and then dropped his eyes. 

“Well, it proves that they are _looking_ for me.”

“I always planned on them _looking_ for you. I will just be very surprised if anyone _finds_ you.” He was silent, long enough for Danny to respond only Danny wasn’t going to, so instead he changed the subject entirely and asked, “Hungry?”

“What?”

“Are you hungry?”

Danny was tempted to say no, only he really was hungry and the entire kitchen/dining room/living room area smelled like something wonderful. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Good. I made casserole. You sit.” He motioned to the table, where two nice if bland settings were already out. It was, like everything else in the house, made of clean lines and functionality. Danny wondered where this came from; Vlad was nothing if not a hedonist and he liked his stuff to at least look a little cool.

The kitchen was separated from the dining room area by a half-wall divider, and it was absolutely _huge_. It reminded Danny of nothing so much as the inside of a honeycomb, all rich golden wood and burnished copper, with countertops made of buttery-yellow marble polished to a high sheen. Dan opened the oven (brand new, convection) and removed the ceramic dish inside bare-handed.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” asked Danny as Dan set it down on the trivet.

“Not really,” said Dan. “I’m comfortable up to about six hundred centigrade, and can go up to eight hundred before I start suffering physical damage. _You_ , on the other hand, should not touch that without an oven mitt. Here.”

It briefly occurred to Danny to wonder how Dan knew that much about his own physiology when _he_ had no inkling at all about how his ghost powers worked, and then he decided that asking would be monumentally stupid.

Dinner was a tuna casserole. Dan served it, taking a much smaller portion for himself than Danny would have anticipated. There was no grace, and the meal was eaten in virtual silence. Dan was apparently at his ease, but Danny got tenser and tenser as the meal went on until finally he could not stand it any more.

“Dan,” he said, putting down his fork, “why?”

Dan looked up, red eyes glinting. “Because.”

“That’s _not_ an answer.”

“I didn’t say I’d answer questions. The deal is that I protect Amity Park instead of attacking it, and you live here, with me. You don’t try to escape; even if you do, I can be in Amity Park before you’ve even got your bearings.”

“All _right_ ,” said Danny. “I get it. You won. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in. And that’s not the question in any case. The question was: why not just kill me, instead of going to all this trouble?”

“And I said I’m not answering,” replied Dan. “Dishes go in the dishwasher. You may watch TV if you want.”

“Dessert?”

“No.”

Danny hunched his shoulders, but put the dishes in the dishwasher. Then he stomped over to the couch, flopped down, and found the remote.

Dan did have cable, and news of his disappearance was on most of the news channels. He didn’t feel much like watching it, so he flipped to a cartoon channel and watched cats consistently getting beaten by mice. Behind him, he heard Dan finish loading the dishwasher and set it to run. He didn’t like having his back turned, but he was resolutely not going to let fear keep him from enjoying whatever kind of life he could manage now.

Dan, once he was finished, came over and sat in the large wingback chair that didn’t face the TV and hadn’t looked comfortable anyway, turned on a reading lamp, and opened a book. There was an illustration of DNA on the cover. Danny decided that he probably got it from Vlad, as he’d never been particularly enamored of biology.

For the next hour or so, it was quiet, or rather, no one said anything.

Then Dan shut the book with a snap and said, “Okay, time for bed.”

Danny looked at the TV clock. “Oh, come on. It’s eight- _thirty_.”

“Which is a reasonable time to go to bed.” He crossed his arms.

Danny sighed, but turned off the TV and, doing his best put-upon, marched off to the bathroom, Dan following too closely behind him. After a bit, he called out, “I need a toothbrush!”

“Second drawer down on the left!” came the response.

The toothbrushes were in a labeled box. Everything was in a labeled box, unless it was large enough or self-explanatory enough not to need one. It was slightly creepy, given the way he generally left things lying all over the floor.

He took his time. Dan was more than a little off-putting. Eventually, though, he came out of the bathroom and returned to his bedroom, to find Dan waiting.

In his bed. Which was apparently _Dan’s_ bed, so his room must be the one down the hall.

“Um . . . ” he said aloud, loath to call attention to himself. “I need new underwear. And pajamas. And probably clothes.”

“Probably. Come to bed.”

Danny did a double-take, and choked a little, impressive considering he wasn’t actually drinking anything. “ _What_?” he asked, when he finally managed to stop coughing.

“Come. To. Bed.”

“But–but that’s _your_ bed.”

Dan raised a single eyebrow, which was something Danny definitely couldn’t do. “Yes. And you will sleep here too.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” said Danny.

“True. But look at it this way: I’m bigger than you, stronger than you, and smarter than you. You aren’t going to leave the house. Either you come to bed, or I make you come to bed. Your choice.”

“ . . . you just find some sick pleasure in giving me choices that aren’t choices, don’t you?” asked Danny, as he walked toward the bed.

“Clothes off,” commanded Dan.

“Oh no,” said Danny. “I am not sleeping naked with you.”

“Sleeping?” asked Dan. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

***

The thing was that Dan was right, a fact that became obvious to Danny within the first fifteen seconds. Dan _was_ bigger and stronger. The jury was still out on the smarter, but he certainly was cunning. He wasn’t tiring as quickly, either. The big problem, though, was the speed.

It didn’t help, of course, that he had to keep changing directions. Outside the house gave Dan free range to level Amity Park; inside the house was too cramped. He couldn’t get any decent speed, and while Dan couldn’t either, Dan was much, much more maneuverable. And _he_ could leave the house.

It reminded Danny of the way his physics teacher (had it only been yesterday?) put the laws of energy: you can’t win; you can’t break even; and you can’t get out of the game.

It took less than a quarter of an hour for Dan to pin down Danny, ghost or no. “That was really remarkably stupid,” he said, both wrists crushed to the floor in one far-to-strong-for-its-size hand. “Now I have to keep you from doing it again.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Danny practically spat.

“Like this,” said Dan, and stuck a Plasmius Maximus in his ribcage.

There was the moment when Danny was looking at his own skeleton, and the moment when the only thing flashing through his mind was _ohgodthepainmakeitstop_ and then he opened blue eyes and said, “A Plasmius Maximus. _Where_ did _you_ get a Plasmius Maximus?”

“I made it.”

Danny stared.

“It’s not hard once you understand the basic concept, which I do because at least part of me _invented_ the thing. They’re really nothing more than a modified tasers. I’m going to take you to bed now.”

“Dan, don’t,”

Dan didn’t say anything, scooping up the (for the moment) completely human Danny Fenton and walking to the bedroom.

“Let go of me,” said Danny struggling. It was like a kitten attacking a full-grown mountain lion.

Danny found himself dumped unceremoniously on the bed, but before he could move, the very real, very _heavy_ weight of Dan was on top of him. “ _Please_ let me go.”

And some of the weight was off, but not enough to get free. Enough for Dan to place a hard palm on his shirt and _pull_ until it broke.

“Ow! Dan, I get it! You’ve won! Now please. Fucking. Stop!”

Dan’s eyes gleamed red when the light caught them, and there was the sensation of cold and the reality of _hot_ as his pants were phased off. Without the thick layer of denim, Danny could _feel_ Dan’s arousal, and the realization that Dan wasn’t going to stop hit with a sickening thud. He began fighting, clawing, bucking, doing whatever he could to get _away_.

“DON’T! I know you’re a monster, but you want to be _this_ kind of monster?”

That seemed to give Dan pause for a moment, until Danny felt the cold and then the _heat_ and he wasn’t wearing underpants anymore, either. He was fighting, clawing, scratching, but it wasn’t doing any good. He had no nails to speak of, and Dan’s skin was a good deal tougher than that anyway.

“DAN! PLEASE!”

Dan backed off, and for an instant Danny was almost hopeful, and then his arms were pinned to the mattress above his head and Dan was laying full length against him, naked, and _licking_ his cheek.

When he next opened his mouth to shout, that tongue slipped inside.

“—Mmfph!”

Danny bit down hard, which would probably have hurt except the tongue was intangible. The mouth wasn’t, though. That was not the frightening part, because the frightening part was that for all he was a horrible, psychotic killer with a kink for upsetting him, Dan was actually kissing him very softly, mouth open barely but mostly it was just lips on lips. It was . . . soft. Warm. Very nearly enough to distract him from what _else_ Dan was doing.

He felt his legs forced apart as Dan thrust a thigh between them, and then another one. Through the haze of adrenaline, it took Danny a moment to realize that Dan, while mostly clothed, had opened his oddly Spandex pants and his erection was now free, rubbing against Danny’s own skin.

“Mmm!”

A hand, warmer than a ghost’s should be–hell, warmer than a _human’s_ should be–found its way to high thigh, and then in one dizzying motion they were both on their sides, front-to front, and a hand was stroking his ass. It slipped lower, to the skin of his thighs, before returning just a bit higher, exactly where he didn’t want it, pressing and exploring and almost . . . teasing.

Danny couldn’t shout because of the lips on his, couldn’t move because of the arm crushing him to the larger body, couldn’t fight because he was human. He was, for the first time in his existence, totally helpless.

The hand vanished for a moment, returned coated in something slick and cool. _No_ -thought Danny, and then it was _inside_ and ever muscle in his body simultaneously tensed, he clamped down, fighting to get Dan _out_. This succeeded in doing absolutely nothing. Dan finally allowed the kiss to end.

“Shh,” he said, tongue flicking at Danny’s ear, and Danny was so shocked that he obeyed for the moment it took Dan to replace his lips.

The finger inside him moved, stretching, and searching and then–

While Danny was preoccupied with the feeling on his bones turning to lead while small green electric sparks fizzled off into his blood, Dan removed his mouth again and said, “Try to relax. It will hurt less.”

Danny was set to ask “What?” when a second finger pushed inside to join the first, and that was _really_ unpleasant. Not actually painful, more the horrible feeling of butterflies in his stomach mixed with the horrible sense of the future in his mind. “No,” he whispered. “This is wrong.”

Dan didn’t respond, didn’t act as if he’d heard Danny at all. The two fingers slipped out a bit, before returning. There was more cool slickness, and Danny shivered, and then the arm supporting him was gone and he was on his back again, Dan forcing his legs apart, opening him.

“ _No_ , Dan.” There was no one to help him.

Something large and blunt pushed at him, and Danny’s mind went white. It was not enough to not feel it as it entered, burning like a piece of iron. And then it stopped.

Danny opened his mouth, but did not scream. There was no air to scream _with_. Instead, he lay there gasping like a landed fish, slowly adjusting until the burn eased, leaving him feeling . . . full, nothing more. Just when he thought he might have the energy to move again, Dan preempted him, sliding forward what seemed an unimaginable distance but was probably only half an inch, and then he had to go through the entire thing all over again.

It took some time. Dan waited until he could stand it before moving forward. By inches and centimeters, though, Dan inexorably pressed forward, until he simply couldn’t move any more.

And then he leaned forward and licked up Danny’s tears.

Danny hadn’t even realized he was crying until that moment, eyes squeezed shut and concentrating on breathing, arms splayed to either side, fisting the blankets tightly. But the feather-light touches caused his eyes to snap open, meet Dan’s three inches above, expression unreadable. The snake-like tongue vanished, and for a moment it looked like Dan was going to talk, and then he didn’t.

In some small way, Danny was grateful.

Instead, Dan pulled back, and _out_. Danny tensed again, and then in one deep breath forced himself to relax.

Dan went slowly again, giving him time, and that was okay because Danny could use the time.

The third thrust was slightly faster, but by then Danny had found his voice again.

“Damn you.”

Thrust.

“Damn.”

Thrust.

“You.”

Thrust.

“You.”

Thrust.

“Fucking.”

Thrust.

“Asshole.”

But Dan was ignoring him again, and the only sounds that weren’t Danny’s own voice were the noises of flesh on flesh and fabric on fabric as the sheets moved. And then Dan pulled at him, shifted again, and he was _sitting_ on Dan and big, strong arms were wrapped around him and too-clever hands were rubbing small, soothing circles into his back. When they weren’t bodily picking him up by his hips and leaving, he was sure, bruises. Almost against his will, he relaxed.

It didn’t hurt. It was worse than pain, a dull ache in his mind, the sense of _hopelesshopelesshopeless_ and Dan fucked him and held him and, after an eternity, stiffened silently. Danny felt sticky, warm heat.

Dan pulled out carefully, lifted Danny and tucked him under the covers, before settling behind him, a large hand stroking his chest slowly.

“Damn you,” whispered Danny, fighting the tears.

The tears won eventually, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get back into posting again. Have some very old, very skeevy porn.
> 
> Why is health insurance so expensive?


End file.
